Frontline of the Courageous

Burning Fields

West of St. Louis
21:30
Wind shakes the tall grass as the night wears. No sound audible throughout the clear fields, all except for the sounds of boots on the ground. Jonas Ru swore as a patrol walked past him. He has been tasked to destroy the NPR or the New People's Republics' airbase.

He sighed to himself, "That was close." He crawled towards the sprawling airbase. Looking over a ridge, he could spot multiple fighters and attack helicopters dotting the base. Jonas looked at himself and sighed. He brought only six blocks of c4, a bayonet, two frag grenades, a M1911 with 6 mags, and an M4 with 6 magazines. "Command, I don't think six blocks of c4 are going to destroy an entire airfield," Jonas said through his radio.

"It isn't going to by itself but if you place them on the fuel tanks that should do the trick," command radioed through.

Jonas sighed as crawled to the perimeter of the base keeping an eye out for weak points in the fence. "Bingo," he said to himself as he crawled through an unseen hole in the fence. Standing up, he found himself behind one of the aircraft hangers. Sneaking inside, he found one of the fuel trucks sitting unguarded. He stuck a block of c4 underneath it and continued onwards to the next hanger.

"Did you hear about yesterday and the attack on L.A?" Jonas froze at the voice.

"Wasn't it UDF supporters or something?" an older voice rang out.

Jonas looked in front of him and saw two figures conversing with one another. Looking around to see if there was anyone else in the hanger with them, he pulled out his pistol and attached a silencer to it. lining up his shots both guards fell dead. Jonas dragged their bodies into a crate and continued with his mission.

The mission carried on without a hitch with a guard dead here and there until he had one block of c4 left. He knew that escaping here was going to be challenged so he elected to keep the block on him.

"Let's start it up"."

Crouching behind a jeep with his m4, he pressed the detonator and watched five separate explosions light up the night sky. Sirens blared as Jonas began his escape. Watching a patrol run to him he vaulted over the hood and riddled the first two soldiers with bullets, alerting the squad to his presence

"He's over here!"

"Shoot him!"

"Shut up," he murmured. They collapsed, as bullets entered their skulls. Pressing the mage release, he slammed in a new mag and continued forward to extraction. He took cover as bullets whizzed past him and returned fire. Knowing he was outgunned he tossed a frag towards his shooters, their screams of pain signaling its effectiveness. Sweeping a corner of a wall he fired a burst into NPR grunt and aimed at the next one. Hearing a click, he grunted. Letting his rifle hang as he pulled out his pistol and put two shots into the soldier's chest.

He continued his rampage weaving through bullets and shrapnel. Nearing the front gate he already dropped his empty M4, resorting to his M1911 and bloody bayonet. Dashing to the panicking guards he plunged his knife into the first one and empty an entire mag into another. Grabbing a guard's rifle he dropped another pair of guards, only to be thrown back by an explosion. Looking up he groaned.

A Tank.

A M1 Abrams was there right behind him, its barrel still smoking from its shot.

'How am I supposed to destroy that thing!' he panicked. Until he felt a block in his pocket. The c4! 'Thank God!'. He jumped up and weaved through the gunfire trying to reach the tank before it fired again. The crew inside panicked as they tried to fire another round towards the maniac running towards them. But they didn't get the chance to. Jonas crawled on top of the tank and latched the c4 on to the turret before jumping off. He ran forward toward the gate as he detonated the c4 engulfing the tank in fire. With no one left to follow him, he walked back towards extraction. "Command, it's done," he radioed through.

"Excellent work hunter one, we're sending a Blackhawk eta. 15 minutes."
He turned around and watched as the base burned to the ground. He sat down, pondering his thoughts. Blood staining his clothes.